Had to Happen
by sweetdonalbain81507
Summary: The end is near...we all knew it would happen, right? How long could the gang not pay at the Life Café before it would run out of money...and go out of business? ON HIATUS!
1. Prologue: Cause and Effect

**Disclaimer: I'm into math, alright? RENT ≠ mine.**

_Finally,_ Gilbert Allen, the manager of the Life Café thought, _peace and quiet. What is perfection, if not satisfied, happy customers and total calm and..._BANG! The slam of the door interrupted his musings. Oh no. It was _them_ again. _Why, God, why? Why me?_

* * *

A few hours later, he watched them go. The gay black man appeared to be drunk, _but then again, _reflected Mr. Allen, _when weren't they?_ The short Hispanic girl was giggling as she supported him. She really was _tiny_, and while the man wasn't particularly large, he looked like he could crush her easily. Mr. Allen vaguely wondered for a moment why the man's boyfriend, or was it girlfriend, was not helping him, but waved the thought away. Those artists had strange habits; who was he to question them?

It wasn't as if he'd _achieve_ anything by questioning _that_ lot anyway. He knew _that_ from long experience. How often had he questioned them about...oh, what is it...ah, money, yes, that little trifle, that thing he kept in a fairly empty jar on top of the refrigerator in his apartment, that thing that you had to give to get things (like wine and beer). That group had never _quite_ learned that association: you get food and alcoholic beverages, you give money. It has to go both ways. It had to be balanced. BALANCED, FOR GOD'S SAKE, BALANCED!

Cause and effect did seem to be lost on that crowd. Not only did the whole buy things/pay for things not register, the effect of not paying for things seemed to confuse them. It wasn't like Mr. Allen had cash to burn; _why,_ he questioned (though he remembered that wasn't good strategy, but in his head, he could get away with it), _would I be serving _them _if I did?_ And people paid for food, including restaurant owners, though not including artists. Without food, restaurants are not quite as useful as they are with. Without money, there could be no food. And with those artists keeping the books unbalanced, there was no money.

Mr. Allen sighed. There was only one possible effect of those causes, was there not?

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**A/N: I know it's short, but it's a prologue. Updates will probably be sporadic; sorry to whoever's reading this (**_**if**_** anyone's reading this, that is). So...yeah. Please review. Oh, and if you caught the little, slightly abridged reference to the movie **_**The Wedding Singer**_**...good for you. I love that movie.**

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	2. Of Leis and Greek Mythology

It was a clear sunny day. Well, as clear as it ever gets in New York City. More correct would be to say that it was a relatively non-smoggy day, but environmental concerns do not really have a place in this story, so the wording will remain "a clear sunny day". In any case, a certain group of friends was walking down a certain street, heading towards a certain café. They were having a celebration; one of the friends had written a few bars of a song that did not sound like "Musetta's Waltz" (if it had a passing resemblance to "Si, Mi Chiamano Mimi", well, everyone just ignored that. Really, all of the other friends wondered about this odd fixation with opera, not something one would expect of an angsty wannabe rocker. Though admittedly, "La Boheme", and Puccini in general, did have quite a bit in the angst department. That did not explain his obsession with "The Marriage of Figaro". Actually, that one kind of made sense. "The Magic Flute"? No sense. None at all).

Moving right along, this was considered, for Roger, quite an accomplishment, something that must be celebrated. When the celebration involved getting drunk...well, none of the others would argue. Anyway, the group continued on its merry, comparatively unpolluted way, talking casually about...no one knows (porcupines came up. And fir trees. And Joanne's irrational hatred of leis). Eventually, the conversation came to an end. This was a good thing. The reason why it came to an end? Less good.

"What the hell does that sign say?" shrieked Maureen, in a way that would attract all attention on the street in any place but the good old center of the universe, where _much_ more than screaming was noteworthy.

"Did you forget again? I thought I explained this to you for the last time," sighed Roger, not entirely sure how you could sigh words even as he did so. "You see, the pretty little circle-y thingy is called a 'G' and it makes the 'guh'..."

"Oh, shut up! You have one little success, and..." For a little while the drama queen muttered darkly to herself; Mimi, used to this, did not start worrying until she heard the rather menacing sounding chants. Opening her mouth to interrupt, she was relieved to hear the, she supposed, worshipper of Dionysus (or some even darker power) begin speaking in a normal (well, almost normal), much less frightening tone of voice. "I _meant,_ why the hell is that sign there?"

"Of course you did," mumbled _Mark_ of all people. Angel looked over at him, trying to decide whether or not she should be concerned at this most uncharacteristic comment, but chose not to interfere. Maybe the boy was finally growing some balls.

"Wait...why the hell _is_ that sign there?" asked Collins stupidly, just now deciding to examine the piece of paper that caused the whole uproar. Or possibly downroar, because it really was not much more hostile than the group's usual climate. Damn, he had been watching too much _Animal Planet. Not that most of these bitches are different from the show's usual subjects,_ he mused.

"_Thank_ you!" Maureen chirped, beaming. "So, why the _hell_ is that sign there?"

"Wait, _why_ the hell is that sign there?" asked Collins. Really, he was normally quite brilliant. Really.

"Well, I don't know, why the hell is _that_ sign there?" asked Maureen, delighted at being the one to introduce such a controversial topic.

"Really, why the hell is that _sign_ there?" Collins genuinely seemed confused. _Kind of depressing,_ decided Angel.

"The question is actually: why the hell is that sign _there_?" Maureen pointed out, feeling rather reasonable. And insightful. And ingenious. And just amazing in general.

"I'd say that the question is truly why..." began Collins, before finding himself cut off by Joanne. Oh, well; being cut off was common for him. Not that this was the usual method.

"Okay, I don't see how the two of you can possibly put another inflection on that God forsaken sentence! And I would say that the reason for that sign being up is clear: the Life Café is going out of business!" Even before the words had left her mouth (metaphorically, of course; that would have made a _mess_), she knew what to expect: exactly what she had received. A ringing, somehow quite loud silence.

Well, the city was never exactly _silent_. Of course, there was still quite a bit of noise. But the group that _she_ was concerned with was silent, which was not exactly a common occurrence. She idly hoped that Mark was getting all of this on film; no one would ever believe it, not without evidence. Then she mentally slapped herself; of _course_ Mark was filming this.

"Wait...how?" Roger asked dumbly, sounding afraid to break the spell.

"Money. Well, lack of it, really," responded Joanne, reasonably.

"But...why?" This one came from Maureen. She sounded like a lost little child, trying to find out where her father was, unable to accept the fact that her father was dead. _Wow, why am I so morbid today?_ wondered Joanne. She sighed inwardly, feeling like the mother of said lost little child. Except that if she was, she would probably be more upset.

For that matter, why _were_ all of her friends so upset? They were staring, open mouthed; looking like their puppy had just died. Or possibly like their pupp_ies_ had just died; Roger was not so great at sharing.

"Well," Joanne responded, sensibly, "the restaurant business is hard all over. I suppose that the conditions of this area are not exactly ideal. It is also possible that..." she trailed off, feeling the weight of the blank stares of the six people that she was closer to than anyone else in the world. _God, my life sucks,_ she realized.

"But...what can we _do?_" asked Mimi, seeming to be the only one who even half understood Joanne's explanation. It was not really very complex, but at the moment, she doubted that any of the other five were capable of comprehending words of more than four letters. _Or maybe six; after all, Jo did say "really" and everyone seemed to be okay,_ Mimi ruminated. _It truly is a mystery to remain unsolved; how long can words be and remain comprehensible when the listeners are in this state? Well, "comprehensible" is certainly out. And so is "certainly"._

"That," Angel said, dazedly coming out of her trance, "is the million dollar question, isn't it?

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**A/N: Sorry about the wait, but you should probably expect it. Updates on this are going to be ridiculously far apart; I'm not good with action (dialogue, people actually doing stuff, as opposed to thinking about stuff that they have done, etc.). All of my other stories are plotless character pieces, which come easily to me. I'll try for every three weeks, but I can't promise anything. Review anyway?**

**Oh, about the whole opera rant...I just saw "The Marriage of Figaro" and it was amazing! Kudos to anyone who knows why it makes sense as a favorite of Roger's.**


	3. Of Rubber Gorilla Masks and Genuflection

_When we last left them, our...um...heroes were trying to come up with a plan to save their beloved café. Well, Joanne, Mimi, and Angel were trying...sort of. The other four were in a trance, shocked at the very idea of their haunt closing, until..._

"Well, that's easy," Roger said abruptly, causing the three lucid members of the group to jump at the sudden break in his silence.

"Is it?" asked Joanne cautiously once she had recovered, nervous that he was about to spew some random nonsense involving hamsters, sparkles, and rubber gorilla masks (it definitely would not have been the first time).

As it happened, it was not so. Jo was completely astonished by her friend's plan, which she would not have been if it had been similar to the aforementioned nonsense.

"Are you...quite sure?" Mark asked, jerked from his daze by his concern for his friend.

Gritting his teeth, Roger answered tightly, "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

"What did you say?" asked Maureen jubilantly; apparently her desire to mock her...um...friend knew no bounds. "A man's gotta...how do you come up with this stuff? This is just like when my high school drama teacher told me that to get better at my part, I should practice! Or when my mother told me that I should put on a jacket if I was cold! Or when my ex-boyfriend told me to eat when I was hungry! I'm just so...how do you people come up with these things?"

"Listen, I really...just can't deal with this right now. I just...I can only take so much, alright?" Roger told her roughly, plaintively.

"Yeah, lay off him, girl. This must be really hard for the boy," Collins told her off, being the last to come to his senses. For some reason, his friend's defense of him seemed to disappoint the creator of this most unpleasant (in his eyes) plan even more.

"So we're really doing this?" asked Roger, depressed, but resigned.

"It was your idea, babe," answered Mimi, though not without sympathy to her boyfriend's plight. She actually did understand his angst this time, even though she was normally mystified by his many issues. In this case, however, she rather agreed with him; this was not her first choice of actions either. In fact, the entire group was a bit leery, except maybe for Joanne, who was usually confident and always practical. And possibly Angel, who just never seemed to get nervous. Even she could only remember one such occasion in the past year.

"I guess...I guess we should go get started, then" said the reluctant spokesman for the plan (Roger, obviously) shakily. He looked at the others, appealing for a new idea, but not really expecting one.

To his surprise and joy, Joanne smoothly stated what seemed to her to be the obvious, "Shouldn't we go inside first, to try to find out more about what's actually going on? I mean, we don't know the whole story. Suppose we misconstrued the problem?"

"Joanne Alice Jefferson, have I ever mentioned that I love you?" asked Roger enthusiastically, energetically, ecstatically, excitedly, and many other eccentric e-words.

"Um, no, I don't suppose that you have. And Alice isn't my middle name; it's Marie," answered Joanne, rather breathlessly; Roger's hug was pretty crushing. She was just glad that her ribs were intact. _Ouch...scratch that idea,_ she winced.

"What! Marie! You told me that your middle name was Jillian! Honestly, I don't even know you! You start to trust a person and..."

"Maureen! I never said that my middle name was Jillian; you were yelling at me and wanted to call me by my full name, but you didn't know what my middle name was, so you decided that it was Jillian. Honestly, how cruel do you think my parents are? Joanne Jillian Jefferson?" rebutted Joanne _Marie_ Jefferson.

"I like it," the temperamental Maureen said sulkily. "It has a nice ring to it."

"...right," Jo responded, massaging her ribs as she was finally released. "You know, Roger, you don't really have to genuflect."

"I can't help it, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I..."

"Hey babe, should I be concerned? You're cheating on me with a lesbian?" asked Mimi teasingly; Roger was too busy groveling to notice the slight hurt that quickly flashed across her face.

"At least buy the girl dinner for professing your undying love. Slow down," added Collins, successfully defusing what might have been another explosive argument between one of the most dysfunctional couples in the history of...well, not really. There have been worse. Example: the Macbeths.

"Now who's flirting, pookie?" Also Mo and Jo.

"Whoa, he just attacked me. I had nothing to do with it; you can't blame me. Mark got it on film, he can vouch for me. I'm inno..."

"Joke, baby, joke."

"So, are we going in?" cut in Angel. Really, it was times like these that she loved the group more than ever; they made her feel sane.

"Sure, let's. Come on Roger; you'll wear another hole in your pants if you keep rolling around on the pavement like that. I'm sure that Joanne appreciates it, but maybe you should lose your clothes more in private," said the filmmaker obliviously.

Maureen giggled.

"What?" Mark asked perplexedly.

Mimi giggled this time.

"Wha...oh. _Oh_." Mark blushed, realising what he had just said.

"Jealous, Marky?"

"Shut up."

"I think he's jealous."

"Shut up."

"Of which one, do you think?"

"Shut up."

"That is a good question. I'll have to think about it."

"Shut up."

"You can bet _he's_ thinking about it."

"Shut up."

"Well, you can bet anything. The question is will you win?"

"Shut up."

"Okay, you can _safely_ bet he's thinking about it."

"Shut up."

"Don't be ashamed, I think it's cute. Pathetic, but cute."

"Shut up."

"You know, maybe we should shut up."

"Yes. Please do."

"I mean, it would probably be the nicest thing to do."

"Yes, it really would be. The absolute nicest thing that you all could do. Ever."

"And he _is_ such a great friend."

"Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing."

"So...should we?"

"Please, please, please, please, please..."

"What's the fun in that?"

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

"Really Mark, get up off the ground. It's embarrassing. So let's go into find out what we can find out."

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**A/N: Wow, that was some pretty impressive filler. Over 1000 words and I don't think that they did anything at all. Sorry.**

**I wrote most of this during drama practice, so if it seems a bit stilted in places, that's because...you know...I had to actually work on the play I was doing (Macbeth, as it happens; I'm Lady Macbeth). Speaking of the play, that is yet another reason why this story is going to updated sporadically; I'm pretty busy for the next month or so, what with rehearsals and working at home.**

**Please review!**


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